I wanna sketch Ford Titanic-style. Like he's just lounging on the couch or his bed and I tell him how pretty he is and how distinguished he looks <3 Gotta document is raw essence 😤😤😤💕
As a treat, here is a short teeny bit of dialogue I wrote a while ago as a warm up based around making this reference to Ford and him Not Getting it because he missed out on seeing Titanic:
“Would you pose for me?” Ford asks softly as he runs one big hand up and down your back.
You're lounging around with him in bed on a lazy Sunday evening, leisurely sharing in each other's company without fear of being caught, when he poses the question.
He sounds slightly shy, a little unsure of himself, perhaps, and you lift your head from where it rests on his chest to meet his eyes.
“Pose?” You ask. “What for?”
“For me to sketch,” he explains with a smile, gesturing vaguely to where his bag his sitting on the far side of your bedroom. He must have brought a journal along with him. “I’ve admittedly let my human anatomy slip, what with all the monsters and the like, and I could use some practise. You'd make a regal addition, in my opinion.”
You smile, amused, but your cheeks are warm at his flippant compliment. "I'm hardly interesting in comparison to everything else you draw," you tell him. "I'm not sure it would be very captivating for anyone."
"Everything about you is captivating, my dear," Ford says fondly. "And besides, who said it was for anything other than my personal collection?"
He gives you an impish wink and you bite your lip to stifle a smile. It's enough to make your stomach fill with butterflies and he knows the effect his playfulness has on you. That's why he does it so much, damn him.
Recovering, you grin. “So you want to draw me like one of your French girls, do you, Doctor Pines?”
Ford's cheeky expression melts into one of confusion and he frowns. “What difference would it make if you were French?”
It's your turn to frown now. "What?"
"Nationality has no bearing on sketching ability and besides, I don't know any French girls. I've never even been, actually. I've heard it's dreadful."
For half a moment, you're completely confused and you open your mouth to question him further before it hits you-
Of course he doesn’t get the reference, you idiot, he’s never seen Titanic.
“Shit, right, the portal," you mutter, shaking your head minutely as you shuffle to sit up. "Forget I said anything, it's not important."
Ford looks confused but he shrugs off your comment, far too distracted by watching the way the sheets fall from your naked form and pool around your lap.
Usually he'd press you for more but he's clearly found something more important to focus on and it doesn't escape your notice.
"You're welcome to sketch any part of me you'd like to," you say with a smile, stretching your arms over your head leisurely and enjoying the way his eyes rake all over your form.
You can almost hear him internally dissecting you into muscle groups and shapes, and when he meets your eyes again, he smirks.
"I can think of a few places I'd like to start...."
his post includes and i quote: 'ace detective', 'operates on a whim, hardcore deduction... relies purely on Intuition, yet repeatedly cracks strange cases'...
...so you're telling me he is (1) a chaotic detective relying on his intuition (sounds familiar) and (2) boothill and (3) seems jaded and tired of life
I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH STELLAR JADES SAVED FOR HIM SO HELP ME GOD
